


The Rocking Chair

by caffinatedcollectorduck



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:47:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26806843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caffinatedcollectorduck/pseuds/caffinatedcollectorduck
Summary: El stays the night at the Byers'
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper & Jim "Chief" Hopper, Jonathan Byers & Joyce Byers & Will Byers & Eleven | Jane Hopper, Joyce Byers & Eleven | Jane Hopper
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	The Rocking Chair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeutchRemy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeutchRemy/gifts).



One very icy evening in the early winter of 1984, Eleven was seated upside down on the couch in the cabin watching a re-run of something on television when she heard the receiver start to beep. She clumsily flipped over, landing somewhat sideways on the floor as she hurried to read the coded message. It was a longer one and took her a minute to decipher. Her heart fell at the first few words, but then jumped at the next. 

Very late. Joyce is coming. 

The last time Hopper had been ‘very late’, El was really upset and locked herself in her bedroom. When he finally returned home shortly after midnight, she was still awake but refused to come out. Jim had coaxed his way in though, and when she finally did open the door, he was surprised to see anxious tears on her cheeks rather than anger in her eyes. He’d been working hard on encouraging Eleven to articulate her feelings to him rather than just acting out, and while Hopper was glad that she hadn’t gotten physical, she wasn’t verbalzing her distress either. 

“El? Hey, tell me what you’re thinking, Kiddo.” he prompted. 

She sniffled and wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. “Late.” 

“I know, and I’m sorry. But I signaled, didn’t I? Like I promised?” 

The child shrugged her shoulders. “Are you upset about something else?” he pressed. She nodded. “Please tell me.” Jim said, and she’d allowed him to sit next to him on the bed and run his hands through her hair. 

“It’s scary when you’re gone at night.” 

The man sighed, trying to think of a rebuttal but conjuring up nothing. El was right. He would’ve been scared if he was all alone in a cabin in the middle of the woods at night when he was her age, too. He supposed he figured she’d be less fearful than most because of her powers, but he understood now that making that assumption was slightly cruel; just because Eleven could easily defend with them herself didn’t mean that she wanted to have to do so. In fact, she genuinely feared getting to that point, something that was becoming quite clear to the man.

“I’m sorry, El.” Hopper started, hugging her to his side. “I didn’t realize you were that scared. What can I do to make you feel better if I’m late again?” 

The girl sighed dramatically, age appropriately. “Not be late.” 

Jim sighed too, squeezing her tighter. “You know I can’t promise that, Kid.”

“I don’t want to be alone at night.” she said, not knowing how to explain to him that there was nothing he could do about her being lonely when he wasn’t even there. 

The man was quiet for a moment before proposing something. “Okay, what if the next time I’m going to be really late like this, I’ll call Joyce. How does that sound?” 

Eleven had wiped her tears immediately and nodded vigorously, surprised and pleased that Hopper had offered such a good solution. 

“Alright, so I’m going to be home later than, um, nine o clock, I’ll call Joyce and she’ll either come here to stay with you or take you to her house. Is that a deal?” 

The girl had shaken his outstretched hand. “Deal.” 

Jim ruffled her hair affectionately afterwards, pulling her close to him again. “Hey, I’m really proud of you for telling me how you felt. Good job, Kiddo.” 

A smile had tickled her lips, and she’d felt proud, too. 

El wasn’t sure what she felt now. She was disappointed that Hopper would be late, but very grateful that he’d honored their deal and she wouldn’t be alone for much longer. She didn’t know when exactly Joyce was coming, though, or if she was staying at the cabin or taking her back to her house. Eleven hoped for the latter, jumping at any opportunity to leave the cabin. Hopper did allow her out now as long as she was with someone-he wasn’t nearly as strict about that anymore-but with the weather getting colder, there weren’t many other places she and her friends could go, especially when they were in school all day. Plus, she loved being at Joyce’s house. Something about the atmosphere there brought her comfort, though maybe it was just the woman’s presence. The girl smiled to herself and went to pack a few things she wanted to bring with her in the case that she was leaving. 

Less than an hour later there was a knock on the door-their knock-but El was surprised to find Jonathan on the other side when she opened it. He could tell by her expression that she hadn’t been expecting him, so the young man quickly elaborated. 

“My, uh, my mom’s car doesn’t do so well on the ice. We’re actually going to go pick her up from work when we leave here, she closes at eight.” he said. 

The girl brightened then, and slipped on her boots and coat. Jonathan offered to carry her bag, which contained pajamas, her bear, and a few Eggos, and they set off through the frozen forest. Halfway to the car El slipped on a patch of ice, Jonathan catching her by the back of her coat before she could hit the ground. She glanced up at him fleetingly, smiling at his kindness but a little embarrassed that she’d almost fallen. He just smiled back and offered his arm, which she took graciously and gently. He opened the car door for her too, and once inside, Eleven gazed in wonder at the interior of the vehicle. She’d only ever ridden in Hopper’s blazer and Kali’s van, and it amazed her how different they all looked, kind of like people.

Jonathan noticed the girl admiring the collection of tapes he had stuck underneath the front bucket seat. “You like music?” She nodded. “What kind of music do you listen to?” 

“Hop’s records.” 

Jonathan just smiled. “I think you’ll like some of this stuff. You can pick whichever one you want.” 

The young man was turning on the ignition when El passed him a tape, having made her decision quickly. He was surprised at her choice; it was the first mixed tape he’d ever made for Will. Obliging the girl, Jonathan put in the tape and waited for the first song that he knew was coming, that he knew would bring a flood of all kinds of memories. He wondered only briefly if El knew the song too, or knew anything behind its significance to him, but his question was quickly answered the moment the chorus began. 

“This is Will’s song.” she said, glancing at him as he began to drive through the forest back towards Hawkins. 

“Yeah, he likes this one.” Jonathan replied, clearing his throat. “The band’s name is The Clash.” 

“Does every band have a name?” El asked, surprising him. This was the most he’d ever heard her speak, let alone to him directly. 

“Yeah, pretty much. Sometimes it’s not a band name but just the person’s name who sings the song.” 

And then it seemed like he’d thought too soon, because the child only nodded and glanced out the window silently, doing so for the remainder of the drive. Each time the song changed, Jonathan would tell her the band or artists’ name and she’d simply nod again, and by the time they showed up at Melvald’s as Joyce was turning the open sign over, he wasn’t sure if El was ever really even interested to begin with. She lit up when she saw Joyce through the window though, and squirmed with delight as the woman opened the passenger side door and took the girl in her arms. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Joyce said, kissing El’s forehead and scooting into the car, slamming the door shut with a shiver. “Man, it’s cold out there tonight, lets get home.” 

“Will was ordering a pizza for dinner when I left.” Jonathan said, carefully backing out of the empty parking lot. 

“Good, maybe it’s already there.” the woman said, rubbing her hands together and blowing warm breaths into them before taking both of El’s and doing the same with hers. “What about you, honey, what do you want to do tonight.” 

The child shrugged, not really sure what her options were, or how long she’d even be at their house. 

“Well we can play a board game, watch a movie, whatever you want.”

“When will Hopper be back?” 

“I don’t know, baby. He told me to have you call him when we get to my house, I’m sure he’ll explain. Is that okay?” 

Eleven nodded, smiling as Joyce brought her ice-tipped little fingers to her lips and blew warmth back into them. 

On the way to the Byers’ house, the girl could’t help but observe the dynamic between Jonathan and Joyce, one she hadn’t really witnessed before. It was a lot different than the one she’d seen between Joyce and Will; she didn’t watch Jonathan like he was fragile, didn’t insist on being physically near him or constantly touching him somehow, running her hands through his hair or squeezing his shoulders. El hadn’t been around the older boy much, but was discovering that he was very similar to Will; quiet and reserved, but kind, and caring. A lot like Joyce, too. She asked him about school and work and even Nancy, and the woman was actually interested too, not like how Hop pretended to be when El talked about Mike. 

The pizza delivery car passed them on the way up their driveway, just as El’s stomach began to grumble. Jonathan carried her stuff inside and set it on the couch for her while she took off her coat and boots and put them by the door next to everyone elses. Will was already eating in the kitchen and bid the girl a wave hello before diving into another slice. Before she ate though, she hovered near the telephone on the wall and stared at Joyce, who was passing out plates.

The woman finally noticed her. “Oh, yes, you can call him, sweetie. You know his number?” 

Eleven looked at the phone again, then back at the woman, indicating that no, she didn’t. Joyce realized then that Hopper didn’t actually have a telephone at the cabin; the child probably had no idea how to even use one. 

“Here, I’ll dial for you, okay?” she said, popping in the well known number.  
It rang a few times before being picked up by Hopper, who’d been expecting the call. “Hello?” 

“Hey, Hop, there’s someone here who wants to talk to you,” Joyce said, passing the phone to El.  
The girl tentatively lifted it to her ear, mimicking what the woman had done and glancing at her for approval. “Yep, just like that, talk right into this.” she whispered, tapping the mouthpiece. 

“Hop?” El said quietly, unsure of how much she needed to project her voice. 

“Hey, kiddo, how’re you doing?” came Hopper’s voice directly in her ear, so loud that she reared back for a minute in shock. Joyce just smiled and nodded with encouragement, confirming that she was doing it right. 

“I’m..good.” 

“Yeah? You’re at Joyce’s house?” 

“Yes.” 

“What are you having for dinner?” 

“Pizza.” the girl said, feeling her stomach rumble again. 

“That sounds good, I’m a little jealous.” 

“When will you be back?” she said, asking the question he knew was coming. 

“I don’t know, Kid. There was a five car pile up on main street from all the ice today. We just finished clearing away the damage and I still have to write up the reports, so it’ll be late. Did you bring pajamas with you?”

“Yes.” she said, though it was clear by the tone of her voice that she was bummed out. 

“I’m sorry, you know I hate being late too, but you’ll have a great time with Joyce, right? You can stay up and wait for me if you really want to, and I’ll come get you as soon as I can and we’ll go home.” 

“And read?” 

Jim laughed lightly on the other line. “If you’re really still awake, then sure. But don’t keep everybody else up with you, okay? You’re a guest at their house.” 

“Guest?” 

He sighed, searching for a quick explanation. “Yeah, being a guest means that it’s not your house, so you have to be extra polite. That means always saying please and thank you and cleaning up after yourself and not keeping others awake. Deal?” 

El wasn’t sure she fully understood but could tell that Hopper needed to get off the phone and go back to work, and she was yearning for a slice of pizza. “Deal.” 

“Alright, I’ll see you as soon as I can. Be a good girl, and no powers at Joyce’s house, just to be safe, okay?” 

“Okay.” she agreed, though she wasn’t sure why, or on what occasion she’d have to use her powers there. 

“Can you give the phone back to Joyce now?” 

“Yes,” she said, and extended her hand to the woman still standing beside her. 

She traded El the phone for a dinner plate and watched the girl dive in, seated between her two boys at the kitchen table and looking like she really belonged there. 

“Hey,” Joyce began to greet him, but Hopper was already giving her the rundown. 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can but it might not be until after midnight. I told her she doesn’t have to fall asleep but that she can’t keep anyone else awake. I know it’s a school night and a work night, so I really appreciate this.” 

“She’s always more than welcome here. Can I leave a spare key for you under the mat so you don’t have to knock?” 

“Sounds good. Thanks again, Joyce.” 

“You’re welcome, Hop. See you later.” The woman hung up the phone and sighed with a smile, sitting down at the table with the kids and digging in. 

Joyce only got to eat one slice, though; Will, Jonathan, and El were like sharks in a feeding frenzy and had at least three slices each. The older boy retreated to his bedroom soon after he was finished, a customary act for him. Both of her sons were introverts, but Jonathan more so, and his mother knew he relished his alone time in the evenings, usually spent listening to music or re-reading one of his favorite novels. Will and Joyce, however, frequently did things together after dinner. Sometimes it would be just as simple as her reading a book and watching him draw while they sat on the couch together, but they also had an array of board and card games and a large movie selection. 

When the younger boy asked Eleven what she wanted to do when they finished eating, she shrugged, slightly overwhelmed by all the choices Will had proposed. Her and Hopper had a relatively set schedule: they ate dinner, she bathed while he smoked and had a beer, they watched a movie or television show, she read a chapter to him and then he read one to her, and then she went to sleep. While the girl absolutely wasn’t opposed to doing something different, she didn’t know which activity to choose. 

Joyce noticed the girl struggling to decide and narrowed it down for her. “Okay sweetheart, would you rather play a card or board game or watch a movie?” 

El thought for a moment. “Which card game?” Hopper had taught her solitaire-she’d tired of that one very quickly-and Go Fish, but nothing else. 

“We can play speed, rummy, kings corners…” Will began. 

“Have you played any of those, honey?” Joyce asked. El shook her head. “That’s okay, you can learn. Let’s try rummy, that’s a good one for three players, and I’ll help you.” 

The girl nodded, carefully listening to the instructions and holding her cards tight to her chest so that nobody-except for Joyce when she helped-could see them. After the first two rounds, El got the hang of it enough to play entirely on her own, and by the time it was almost ten, she’d even won a few hands. Will was yawning by then, though, and bid El a tired goodnight, Joyce promising she’d be there in a moment. She said her own goodnight’s to both of her boys while Eleven changed into her pajamas in the bathroom, and met Joyce in the living room to find her setting up a makeshift bed on the couch. 

“Hop said you don’t have to go to sleep, but it’s all comfy for you if you decide you want to.” she said, adding a final throw blanket to the top. 

El just nodded, a little unsure of what to do next. Everyone else was going to sleep, but she wasn’t even really tired yet. She wished she’d brought her walkie with her; sometimes if she couldn’t sleep and Hop couldn’t hear her, she’d talk to Mike over the radio until her eyes got heavy and her concentration faded in and out of whatever story he was telling her. But she’d already talked to Mike before Jonathan came to get her, and he knew she would be at Will’s house. 

Joyce could see that the girl was uneasy and tried to think of what she could do to help her. She’d heard her asking Hopper if they could read when he returned, so she offered that option to El, who immediately agreed, though she hadn’t brought a book and told the woman so. 

“That’s alright, we have so many,” Joyce said, opening the cabinet next to the television. There were more books packed inside than El had ever seen, and her eyes widened. “Pick whichever one you want while I put on my pajamas.” 

The child took her time sorting through them, searching for a cover or title that particularly popped out at her. Instead she found one with a picture on the front of two boys. One was very small with dark hair and smiling with two tiny teeth, the other was bigger with lighter hair and was clearly trying not to smile. 

“Oh, you found the photo albums.” Joyce said from behind her, startling the girl. “Sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to scare you. Do you want to look at those?” she asked, pointing to the scrapbook in her hands. El nodded. “Alright, let’s grab these, too then, and start at the beginning.”

Joyce grabbed two other similar looking books and moved to the couch, El sitting close beside her. The woman opened one of the books, and inside it was full of pictures of a baby. When she looked closer, El noted that there were pictures of Joyce, too, from what looked like a long time ago. Her hair was different, very long, and her smile wasn’t so scared yet. 

The girl pointed to a picture of Joyce feeding a bottle to a baby. “You?” 

“Yep, that’s me and Jonathan when he was a few months old. He hadn’t learned to hold his own bottle yet.” she explained, turning the page to reveal even more photos. 

“All pictures?” 

“Mm-hm.” 

“All...Jonathan?” she asked, pointing to a photo of a baby laying on his stomach and lifting up his head. 

“The ones in this book are, yes. Will wasn’t born yet, but the other two have him in it.” 

Eleven scanned through pictures of baby Jonathan, pointing to the ones she was curious about. Joyce explained everything she could remember about when it was taken and what was in the photos, sometimes not exactly sure what kind of explanation the child was looking for. 

“That’s Jonathan trying apples for the first time in his high chair. It’s a special chair just for babies. There he is learning to crawl. That’s when I took him to the zoo when I finally got a stroller. Here he is walking! And his first pair of shoes, his first time going to the playground.” the woman went on, eventually finishing the first book and starting in on the second. 

Joyce looked different in the next set of pictures; her stomach was much larger than it ever had before, and she was always sitting down, and appeared very tired in most of them. El pointed to a rare photo of the woman standing, her distended stomach clearly evident. “Will?” 

“Yep, that’s when I was pregnant with Will. Jonathan was three when he was born.” the woman said, pointing to a picture of a very happy Jonathan looking at a tiny sleeping Will. “He was so happy to have a little brother.”

El wondered not for the first time what it would be like to truly have a sibling, not like how Kali was her sister, but like how Jonathan was Will’s brother. Joyce continued slowly flipping through the pages, stopping whenever the child pointed to something. Her little finger hovered over a photo of Joyce holding a baby Will sideways in her arms in a chair that had two curved bases and a tall back. She’d seen one like it before; Mama sat in a similar chair at her house, it had moved her back and forth while she was stuck in her dream circle.

“That’s me rocking Will to sleep. We sat in that chair every day.” Joyce said, fondly remembering the hours she’d spent feeding and holding her son until he fell asleep each night. She’d rocked him to sleep well into his childhood, especially if Will was scared or sick. It was something that always brought both of them comfort. 

Eleven stared at the picture, suddenly overcome with all the emotions that had been slowly building up that night; anger, jealousy, grief. Why couldn’t she have had half of the life Will and Jonathan did, with siblings and parents and books filled with pictures of them being happy? What had she done to deserve to be stolen from Mama before she ever even had the chance to be rocked by her like that? El viciously loved all of the people in her life and was thankful beyond words for everything they had done for her, but at that moment, she wished she could go back in time more than anything in the world. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Joyce said, startling the girl slightly. It had been a while since either of them had spoken. 

“What?” El asked, voice slightly wavering. She hadn’t realized she was on the verge of tears. 

The woman just smiled. “It’s an expression. It means I want to know what you’re thinking about.” 

Eleven tensed beside her, unsure of what to say. How could she even explain herself without sounding ridiculous? All she’d ever yearned for her entire life was independence and control over herself. So to want what she wanted now after finally gaining that was just silly, and she felt foolish for even thinking it. 

“It’s...stupid.” she said, refusing to look Joyce in the eye. 

“I bet it’s not.” the woman replied, tucking a curl behind her ear. “Sweetheart, you know you can tell me anything, right? Anything, ever, anytime.” 

And when El finally looked up into her eyes, she saw nothing but earnest understanding. “Sometimes...I wish I was a baby.” 

The child’s words didn’t take Joyce by surprise, though they did slice through her painfully. She hadn’t missed the longing glances El made at certain pictures, the way her smile immediately fell right after hearing Joyce tell a sweet story about one of the boys when they were little. There were so many things she wanted to say to her, but none of them seemed right at all, so instead she wrapped an arm around El’s shoulder and hugged the girl tight beside her. A tear dribbled down her cheek and dropped onto the photo of Joyce and Will in the rocking chair that sat in her lap, and the woman pulled away and looked down at the girl with an idea. 

“You know what?”Joyce said, wiping another tear from El’s face. “I still have that rocking chair, it’s in my bedroom. Do you want to see it?” 

Eleven’s eyes widened, and she nodded, sniffling and wiping her nose. Joyce stood and extended her hand, and El took it, following her down the hallway and into the largest bedroom. The girl had been in there another time, had stayed the night on Thanksgiving not long before, but had neglected to notice the old wooden chair in the corner of the room. There was a layer of dust on the seat and armrests, and El wondered when it had been used last. She felt a lump growing in her throat the longer she looked at the chair, and the longing in her chest felt like someone had tied a belt around her ribcage and pulled it too tight. 

The child nearly gasped at Joyce’s next words. “Do you want to sit in it with me?” 

El searched the woman’s eyes again, now filled with love and hope and even a little bit of...fear? No, nervousness. And the girl felt just about the exact same way, but still she found herself nodding yes, and the faintest of smiles began to tug at her lips. 

Joyce used her sleeve to clear off some of the dust before sitting down and opening her arms. El wasn’t quite sure how to proceed, though; she sat in Hopper’s lap often, but he was significantly bigger than her. While the girl was small for her age and still well under one hundred pounds, Joyce wasn’t very tall herself, and El was quickly approaching her in height. 

The woman noted her hesitance. “Don’t worry, honey, I can still carry Will from the couch to his bedroom, we can make this work.” she said, though she hadn’t done that for her youngest son in nearly a year, so it may not have quite been true anymore. 

Very carefully, Eleven climbed into Joyce’s lap. She began by tentatively sitting down directly on top of her and looking back at the woman, her feet still on the ground. As she started to relax, Joyce moved the girl’s legs so that they dangled from one of the armrests, keeping one arm under El’s back and holding her head with the other hand. It was the same position she’d rocked her own boys in so many times, now just with a different, slightly bigger girl. 

Eleven’s eyes widened in momentary fear when Joyce first began rocking, not used to the feeling of moving back and forth like that. She gripped the woman’s shirt tight, feeling like she needed to hang on, but Joyce held her steady, grazing her thumb gently over El’s cheekbone. The girl looked up into her eyes again, and without any warning, suddenly felt her own well up with tears. 

“Shh, baby, you’re alright, I’ve got you.” Joyce murmured, bending down to press a kiss to the child’s forehead. 

And El could not stop the sob that bubbled up out of her throat, and as hard as she tried could not understand why she cried and cried and cried in Joyce’s arms as she rocked her back and forth, just like she had with Will in the picture, just like Mama would have if she could have. Joyce petted her hair and wiped her eyes and kissed every tear off of her cheeks, and eventually, without realizing it, the child’s breathing evened out and her eyes became heavy, each rhythmic motion forcing them to close further until she’d fallen asleep in the woman’s lap. 

Thankfully her bed was only a few steps from the chair, and Joyce was able to transfer the girl onto the mattress without waking her up. She tucked her in and pressed a goodnight kiss into her hair before being flooded with all the emotions she’d just been forced to hold at bay for the sake of the child. Joyce partially shut her bedroom door and left the lamp on in case El woke up before retreating to the bathroom and starting the shower. Her own tears began flowing before the water went hot, and Joyce took two steps in before sitting on the floor of the tub and crying into her hands. 

The woman was still awake when Hopper arrived just before one in the morning. She was drinking a glass of tea in the kitchen and moved to greet him in the living room when she heard him unlocking the door. The man shook off the snow from his coat that had begun to fall outside and put his boots on the rug by the door next to the others’. 

“Hey, what’re you still doing up? Where’s El?” he asked, immediately noting her absence. He’d expected the child to stay up and wait for him, or to at least have fallen asleep on the couch attempting to do so. 

“She’s asleep in my bed.” 

“You could’ve told her no so that you could get some sleep.” he said, assuming the girl had conned her way into the woman’s bed as she sometimes did to him. 

Joyce didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to tell him what had happened, and was too physically and emotionally exhausted to even try. Instead she started cleaning up, stacking the books on top of one another and putting them back in the cabinet. As she did she noted the vast amount of photo albums she owned, many of them from her own childhood. Just another simple pleasure that she’d taken for granted all these years; Eleven didn’t have one photo, of herself or of anyone else. No one except for Brenner and those other bastards at the Lab even knew what she looked like as a baby. The thought broke the woman’s heart; she couldn’t imagine not having those precious memories of her boys during infancy. 

“You should get a camera.” Joyce said suddenly, turning to look at the man. 

“What?” 

“A camera, to take pictures of El. She doesn’t have any.” 

“...Okay?” Jim said, taking a cigarette from the pack in his front pocket. “Where is this coming from?” 

“We were looking at old photo albums.” she said, shutting the cupboard and returning to her cup of tea on the couch. 

“Oh.” said the man, sitting down next to her. He hadn’t thought much about the fact that he didn’t have any pictures of El, but now, glancing around Joyce’s living room, he could see at least three framed photos of her boys. 

“Did she say something?” Hopper asked. He’d also never considered how photos made El feel. Now that she was allowed into others’ homes, she bound to see pictures of all of their happy families plastered proudly on the walls, being constantly reminded that she had none of her own. 

“She was just sad.” Joyce replied, unsure of why she wasn’t telling him the whole story. Maybe she thought he’d laugh at her for doing something so silly, or worse, be angry with her for babying his kid and going and going as far as she did with it. “I stayed with her until she was asleep.” 

“I’ll go put her in the car. What did she bring with her?” 

“It’s all in there.” the woman said, pointing to El’s backpack on the coffee table. 

“Alright,” Jim said, slinging it over his shoulder and standing up. “Thank you again, Joyce.” 

“You’re welcome. I love having her here.” she replied, and meant it wholeheartedly, even when being with the child sometimes left her emotionally drained. 

Hopper creeped down the hallway as quietly as possible, opening the door and silently thanking Joyce for having left the lamp on so that he didn’t have to fumble around finding it. Eleven was sprawled out on her stomach in the woman’s bed, clearly taking advantage of its size. Her arms and legs were everywhere, and he noticed that one of her cheeks was warm and red and had the creasings of a pillowcase pressed into her skin when he picked the child up out of bed and adjusted her in his arms. El started to wake up when Joyce opened the front door for them, tiredly lifting her head from Hopper’s shoulder and groaning. 

“Goodnight, baby.” the woman said, running her fingers through the child’s hair. “Tomorrow is my day off so I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” 

“Okay.” El said, smiling sleepily. 

“See ya, Joyce. Have a good night.” Hopper said, jostling the girl into a slightly more comfortable position. 

“You too,” she replied, and watched him buckle El into the passenger seat before adding, “Hey, Hop?” 

The man turned around, his breath fogging in the crisp, early December air. “Yeah?” 

Again, there was so much the woman wanted to say, but she settled on. “Can you...bring her here tomorrow?” The request caught Hopper slightly off guard, and Joyce could tell too, so she followed it up with, “My car doesn’t do great in the ice, I mean, Jonathan drove me to and from work today and he’s the one who went and picked up El, so..” 

That made Jim agree immediately. “Oh yeah, of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about..” and now here he was, feeling like an ass for assuming that Joyce would be able to continue making the trek through the woods to his house during the winter months in her shitty little car, and not even once offering to bring El to her instead. “I can definitely bring her over tomorrow. It’ll be before nine, is that too early?” 

“That’s fine, I’ll be awake and Jonathan is taking Will to school. Should I feed her breakfast?” 

“No, no, you don’t have to do that, I’ll take care of it. Thank you again, I…” 

“You don’t have to keep thanking me, you know.” Joyce said. 

The man smiled, blowing out a cold breath of air. “But I do. Night, Joyce.” 

“Goodnight, Hop.” 

And the woman stayed on the porch and watched the pair pull out of her long driveway, smiling and waving at the little girl staring adoringly at her through the foggy car window.


End file.
